Angels Are Watching Over You
by Shifteraei
Summary: A series of ficlets about the boys and the angels and how they have interacted over the years. Each chapter will have its own rating, warning and pairing. Chapter One: Not A Guardian Angel


**Dislaimer: Still don't own anything but the plot**

**Author's Note: This story is going to be small ficlets about the boys and the way two angels – well an angel and an archangel – have interacted with them over the years. Each story will have its own ratings and warnings, some will be gen while others will be Destiel or Sabriel or both. They're not going to be in any sort of order, some may even be AUs. Beta-ed by SecretDime, who did good work on this one.**

**In this chapter Dean is probably around 4. According to the internet, the age difference between Dean and Sam is 4 years, 3 months and 9 days. Gotta love the internet.**

**Rating: K+**

**Warnings: None**

**Pairing: Gen (or pre-Destiel depending on how you want to look at it)**

* * *

_**Angels Are Watching Over You**_

_Not A Guardian Angel_

Curled up in a dark, narrow alleyway, Dean fought to hold back his tears. He knew he had to be strong, had to be a brave boy, but that was so hard to do when he was lost and separated from his mum and dad. Dean didn't know what to do. He remembered being told by his teachers that if you got lost you were meant to stay where you were until someone found you, but he had been so scared there and he hadn't been thinking when he had run away, terrified by the noises of the unfamiliar and busy city. He had run until his lungs were burning and his legs were aching, exhausted and afraid, he had hidden himself within an alleyway, dank and dark, but empty of threats.

They had come to this strange place to see a doctor about his brother, who was still in his mum's tummy. Something was wrong with him, but Dean didn't know what. They hadn't wanted him to know that they were worried about Sammy, but he had woken up during the middle of the night once and had seen Mum crying on Dad's shoulder. He had kept saying, "He'll be okay." Dean wasn't sick; he knew they were talking about Sammy.

It was weird, being an older brother, though he wasn't sure if it counted if he wasn't even born yet. He really wanted it to count. At first, he hadn't liked his little brother, because he meant that Mum couldn't play with him anymore, it could hurt Sammy. All of his friends said that having a baby in the family would mean that no one would pay him any attention and he would have to share his toys. But then, Mum had called him over, stroking his fluffy hair and told him to put his hand on her puffed up tummy and say hello to his baby brother.

Dean had protested unhappily before hesitantly complying. "Hello Sammy," he muttered sullenly. He had then stared, wide-eyed, as he felt something flutter against his hand. "He said hello back," he cried, eyes lighting up. He looked up at his mum with big, amazed eyes, a wide smile stretching across his face.

Mum had looked him in the eyes and said, "Dean, promise me something."

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you'll be a good boy and look after your little brother." Dean had nodded, face serious. "That's my boy," she whispered, smiling softly as she pressed a kiss to his fluffy brown hair.

How was he supposed to protect Sammy when he didn't know what was wrong with him? How could he protect him when Dean was so lost and alone, so scared? He needed to be brave for Sammy, but he was so cold and wet, so hopelessly lost.

As soft, mushy snow began to fall, Dean lost his battle against his tears. He curled further into the shadows of the alleyway, tiny body shaking with the cold and the force of his sobs. The falling snow gradually built around him as his sobs died down but mournful tears continued to slide down his cheeks. He wished with every fibre of his being that somehow, just somehow, Sammy would be okay and that he would get the chance to be the best big brother ever.

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A being of brilliant, pure light, so bright that no human could perceive it without harm, paused as he went about his duties. Something flashed in a corner of his mind and he observed the small human, drawn by the strength of his will and his desperate wish for his unborn brother's wellbeing. It was not a part of his assigned duties to help this child; he was not a guardian angel. It would be best not to interfere, but the strength of the child's will was unusual and enthralling. He could see that in less than ten minutes the child would begin to develop hypothermia and it seemed…unfair somehow, that he should perish without ever meeting the brother he was already so dedicated to.

Perhaps it would not be too terrible if he interfered just this once. After all, there was something about this child that seemed special somehow. Softly, keeping tight rein on his power, Castiel picked up the child, cradling the small, chilled body within his Grace. He searched the town for an energy signature that resonated with that of the child he carried. The only thing he could find was the small, flickering light of a soul that had not yet been born and may never be. Its light shone in a perfect harmony with the child he carried. They would be the best of companions, but the baby's light seemed under threat, flickering as a sickness dulled that shinning soul. The rules forbid him from interfering, but it seemed so uncaring to let this soul die, when the child he carried had prayed so strongly for it to be alright, with perfect faith, in a way that only a child could. Surely that could not be part of his father's plan.

As they passed through the space between their location and the hospital, the four year old grumbled softly in the heart of his Grace and the young angel considered his options. He had already broken one rule, by assisting the child he held, what was another? He had always been told that they were not guardian angels, should not interfere with humans but helping the child had given him the strangest sensation of…warmth, and Gabriel had always said that rules were made for breaking. Beside, who would notice two little boys who maybe shouldn't have been alive?

He placed the sleeping boy, who had been warmed by his contact with his Grace, in a chair where he estimated he would be seen within three minutes. As he left the hospital he sent a thin tendril of Grace out to brighten the spark of the baby. They would both be alright and hopefully no one would ever know that he had interfered. After all, perhaps they would have survived without his assistance anyway.

Perhaps, in the end, it was all part of the plan.

_Fin_


End file.
